


The Binds of Time (In Shards Beneath My Feet)

by Ardestel



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Help Kokichi, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Making This Up As I Go, Multi, My First Fanfic, No Major Relationships, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Oma Kokichi-centric, Oops, Out of Character Oma Kokichi, Sad Oma Kokichi, Time Loop, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, be nice, he also may or may not die again, hes struggling ok, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardestel/pseuds/Ardestel
Summary: Beneath the hydraulic press, Kokichi didn't feel an ounce of regret. It had to be this way, and he deserved it in the first place. He would be at peace, finality finally being given to him after all this time. Of course, that would be the case if some almighty god decided he hadn't had enough yet. He didn't know if waking up again after dying was his punishment or a second chance, but he was going to utilize it either way.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107





	The Binds of Time (In Shards Beneath My Feet)

**Author's Note:**

> Any constructive criticism will be welcome. I know I'm not that good at writing yet, but this idea has been on my mind for quite a while, so I decided to make a project of it. Inconsistent updates are to be expected, since I'm writing this without a story skeleton or anything else. I'm making this up as I go, so feel free to leave any suggestions as well.

The darkness flooding his vision was entirely too bright. It swallowed him whole, devouring other senses in an inky nothingness that he had never quite experienced before. Flooding in through nostrils and mouths, caressing his whole body, a bitter feeling and taste strangling him, taking his non-existent breath away. Everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time, everything and nothing. It vanquished any lingering minds of any thoughts, ears of any noise, and left him floating, waiting. Waiting for what exactly, he wasn’t sure. 

It was suffocating, but comforting. He knew nothing else in the moment. Nothing else mattered. He was not an entity, not a person. He simply existed in this void, to be waiting forever. It was to be expected, the curse and blessing of death. Welcomed, even. It was better than before, he knew that even if he did not remember. He was at peace, free to just be, without the restraints of life. Or, at least that’s what was supposed to happen.

He recalled the warmth of the jacket under him, shielding him from the coolness of the metal beneath it. The numb throbbing pulsating through his body, and the feeling of wanting to vomit. A sickening smell of blood lingering in the air as death approached in the form of the hydraulic press slowly descending upon him. The longer it took to come down, the feeling of dread and fear magnified. Along with it came a grim satisfaction, and the finality of his situation dawning upon him. The press was so close that it was all he could see, and his heart caught in his throat, but he pushed the feeling away. No, it had to be this way, for everyone's sake. He couldn’t afford to be selfish anymore.

It didn’t hurt. Well, maybe it did, but he certainly couldn’t remember. Maybe it was that whole deal with repressing traumatic memories or what not. It didn’t matter now. All he felt was a horrible pressure and a squelching sound. His bones cracking like glow sticks, his body reduced to nothing but ground meat and blood. He didn't die with even an ounce of regret within him. He deserved it, it was his reciprocation. He deserved to die, for all the deaths he caused. For all the ones he didn’t prevent.

.  
.  
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.  
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.  
.

What.. is this? A tingling started from his fingertips and crawled up his arms, spreading throughout him until he was entirely made up of a pins and needles feeling. Whispers that sounded so loud in this blank void echoed around him, never exactly forming coherent words or sentences, gibberish tones fading in and out. He could feel himself slipping, but what was he slipping from? This was supposed to be the end of everything, it was all over. Thoughts slipped into his previously empty mind. Whispers and thoughts jumbled together, to the point where he couldn’t decerne one from the other. It was so loud, his head hurt, he just wanted it to end already…

Blinding light halted whatever feeling he felt in its tracks harshly. Pain exploded behind his eyes as the white flash dissolved the darkness in an instant, so fast it made his head spin. His senses came back full force instantly, the agony racking through his body choking him, and he felt the pressure again. His mouth opened in a silent scream, eyes blown open without seeing anything. This was worse than dying, it was torture. His body convulsed, and he could feel himself being dragged upward towards the source of the light. Closer and closer, the voices and thoughts got louder. A compressing weight grew harder and harder around his throat, bringing tears to his eyes. The voices grew to shouts, pressure devolved into pain throughout his whole body, and blood rushed to his ears as he flew upwards, where everything around him grew in intensity and it was too much to bear, he couldn’t take it…

Then it stopped.

Kokichi Oumas eyes flew open with a shuddering gasp, which turned into desperate coughing soon after. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he grabbed handfuls of his hair, shivering and hitting his head against the metal locker he was currently inside. His breath hitched suddenly as he made a realization. He looked around himself, recognizing the locker. No, it couldn’t be… It’s not possible. Shakily, he released one hands grip on his hair and pushed open the locker door, revealing a very familiar classroom. He took a few steps out, purple eyes flickering around the room, taking in every detail. It was all exactly the same as before. His head ached as the rush of memories previously repressed all came back to him. Sobbing resumed as he collapsed in on himself in the middle of the classroom he had awoken in last time. This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t real. His racing thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a voice. A voice more human sounding than the whispers, but he knew well that this voice did not belong to anyone human. Kiibo...


End file.
